‘Mostly good, thank you, Isobel. On the downside, one of the boys dislocated his shoulder, but Pete’s wife gave birth to a little girl at the hospital, which was very exciting. Atholl and I took over for a while when he went to visit Sally.’
Isobel started to pin a notice on the board and didn’t speak for a moment. Then she said casually, ‘I’m glad you and Atholl get on well—it makes it easier when you work together.’
Was there the slightest emphasis on the words ‘work together’? Terry wondered if there was a hidden agenda to Isobel’s remarks.
‘Yes,’ she replied lightly, ‘I think we’re on the same wavelength when it comes to work.’
Isobel nodded. ‘Aye, it’s good to see him concentrate on the practice. As you probably know, he had a distressing time with Dr Grahame. It wasn’t a good thing for him to mix work with socialising—if you know what I mean. It can lead to all sorts of…shall we say complications? He was most unhappy.’
Was this the gypsy’s warning? A caution for her not to get too close to Isobel’s darling Atholl? Isobel might be right—work and social pleasure didn’t always work out, but if one was careful, surely it needn’t be disaster?
‘He did tell me about her,’ she admitted. ‘It was obviously horrible for him.’
Isobel gave a grunt of disgust and started to type something furiously on the computer.
‘You could say that. Aye, there were a lot of things Atholl didn’t know about that one, and when he did, it was almost too late. Thank God he found out the truth about her.’
Terry bit her lip. What on earth would Isobel say if she really knew what had happened the night before? But a little wave of happiness rippled through her. She really didn’t care what Isobel thought!
Sue and Bunty came in, taking off their jackets, and Sue sank into a chair looking her usual harassed self after a weekend looking after her family.
‘What a morning! Just try getting three quarrelling boys off to school on time with all their homework and lunch boxes—and then, just as I think I’ve got them through the gates, Jake says he’s forgotten his sports kit!’
‘Have some coffee.’ Terry grinned, handing her a cup. ‘You can relax now you’ve come in to work!’
Sue gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Relax, did you say? Baby clinic first and then all the check-ups later this morning for the over-fifties. Then this afternoon—’
She was interrupted by a small commotion in the waiting room, a child wailing and an adult’s soothing voice saying, ‘You’ll be all right now.’
‘I want my mum. I want her to make it better!’ screamed the child over the top of the adult’s voice. ‘Go and get her now!’
‘What on earth’s happening?’ said Isobel sternly, getting up from her chair and marching through to the waiting room. A few seconds later she appeared again, holding a small sobbing boy by the hand.
‘Look what I’ve got, Sue. I think he belongs to you!’
‘Jake!’ cried Sue in astonishment. She put down her coffee and ran towards the child, cuddling him. ‘What’s the matter? I’ve only just dropped you off at school!’
A rather flustered-looking woman appeared at the door. ‘I’m afraid Jake’s trapped his finger in a door and his nail’s gone very black—it looks most painful. I thought it best to bring him straight here, knowing you worked at the medical centre.’
‘Mrs Milnthorpe!’ Sue turned to the others. ‘This is Jake’s headmistress. Oh, thank you so much for bringing him here.’ She knelt down by her sobbing little boy, who was guarding one hand within the other one. She tried to prise it open. ‘Let’s have a look, Jake. It’s alright, darling, we’ll do something about it.’ Sue looked up at Terry. ‘What do you think? The nail’s gone black and it’s very swollen.’
Terry looked at the small finger with a purple nail on it proffered very reluctantly for their gaze by the tearful child, and grimaced.
‘Poor old Jake! It’s obviously bleeding behind the nail and there isn’t much space to bleed into, so no wonder it’s painful. But don’t worry—I’ve got a great way to make it feel a lot, lot better!’
Jake began to scream. ‘I don’t want you to touch it. Keep away!’ He pulled his hand away from Terry and protected it with his other hand again, looking at them defiantly with tear-filled eyes, then buried his head in his mother’s shoulder, squirming when she tried to extricate his arm. Sue looked back at the other women rather helplessly.
‘It’s not easy when you’re related to the patient,’ she said wryly.
‘Normally the patient isn’t using you as a shield!’ remarked Terry, squatting down by the little boy and attempting to pull him round to face her. ‘Just let me see your poorly finger for a minute, sweetheart. I promise it won’t hurt,’ she said.
A muffled bellow was all she got in reply.
‘Well, well, now—is somebody in trouble here?’ said a familiar deep voice.
Atholl’s tall figure was looming at the door. He looked around at everyone clustered round the little boy, his eyes holding Terry’s for a second of intimate scrutiny so that her pulse bounded into overdrive. Then, quickly assessing the situation, he strode over to the little boy and bent down beside him. He prised the child away from his mother gently but firmly, taking no notice of the child’s resistance or the increasing volume of his screams.
‘Come on, wee lad,’ he said coaxingly, a mixture of understanding and rallying in his voice. ‘You’re a brave boy, I know.’
He held the frightened child close to him, patting his back, letting the little boy calm down as naturally as if it had been his own son, thought Terry. She sighed, remembering how tender her father had been to her when she had been little, always on her side, always there for her when she’d needed him.
Atholl was still speaking to the little boy. ‘Let Dr Terry and I get rid of that pain for you.’ He looked up at Terry with a wink. ‘We make a magical team, you know!’
Terry leapt back into the present, pushing the flashback away. Atholl delved into his jacket pocket and brought out a tiny model car, waving it in front of Jake.
‘See this, Jake. Look, when I push it along the floor the headlamps light up—can you see them?’
There was a moment’s silence as the little boy’s interest was caught, following the toy with his eyes as it raced along until stopped by a chair leg.
‘Would you like that, Jake?’ The child nodded silently. ‘Well, just let Dr Terry look at that finger for a minute, then it’s all yours.’
‘Right—has anyone got a match?’ asked Terry. ‘I’ve got the rest of the equipment in my bag. Here it is…a pin and a pair of tweezers!’
Isobel came forward with a box of matches and everyone watched goggled-eyed as Terry gripped the pin in the tweezers and then held the tip in the flame of the match. Atholl had a firm arm round Jake and he swivelled the child round so that he was pointing towards the window, and at the same time held the little boy’s hand out towards Terry.
‘Look, Jake,’ he said urgently. ‘Can you see that squirrel running up the tree outside? He’s just stolen some nuts from the bird table out there…’
During the time that Jake’s attention was diverted, Terry took his finger and pressed the glowing pin tip firmly into the injured nail. There was a faint hiss as the hot metal burnt a hole in the nail and blood started to ooze out through the freshly made aperture.
‘Oh,’ breathed Bunty, impressed. ‘That was neatly done! How amazing!’
Terry laughed. ‘Not to be done at home, but it worked because Mrs Milnthorpe got Jake here before the blood began to clot.’
Jake twisted round and looked at his finger doubtfully, then back at the adults round him. ‘It’s not hurting now!’ he said wonderingly.
‘I told you that Dr Terry and I are good when we get together!’ Atholl’s mischievous eyes met Terry’s, and she looked away hastily. Did he want the whole room to know about them?
‘I think brave boys deserve a chocolate biscuit and so
me milk,’ she said quickly. ‘And then you can go back to school—that finger won’t give you any trouble now!’
‘I’ll take you back,’ said Mrs Milnthorpe. ‘You will have a lot to tell your friends, won’t you? Quite a hero!’
After a farewell hug from his mother, Jake trotted off quite happily, clutching the little car, and Sue sank back into a chair, blowing out her cheeks.
‘That child—he’s always getting into scrapes,’ she sighed. ‘Thank you so much, both of you, for that procedure! By the way, Atholl, do you carry a stock of those little cars?’
‘It’s like a toy shop in my pockets.’ He grinned. ‘Anything else we can do for you?’
Sue’s eyes twinkled. ‘Well, I hate to mention it…but as a matter of fact I thought one of you was going to clear some rubbish from your room this weekend so that I could transfer some of my rubbish in the space you’d made! There’s still only just enough space in my room for one thin patient and me at the moment!’
Terry clapped her hand to her forehead. ‘Oh, God—so sorry, Sue! Er…I’m afraid it just went out of my head completely. You know we had The Culleens outward bound course yesterday and then Pete’s baby arrived…and one thing and another…’
‘I know, I know.’ Sue smiled good-naturedly. ‘I’m sure your mind was on plenty of things other than The Sycamores!’
How right she was, thought Terry wryly, almost able to feel the mischievous grin that played across Atholl’s face! She averted her gaze quickly—all these double entendres were getting embarrassing!
‘I promise I’ll do it this evening—honest,’ she said.
‘Would you like me to help you sort things out?’ asked Sue.
‘No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got to be really ruthless—there seem to be loads of ancient files stacked in a corner which I’m sure are completely out of date. Atholl’s uncle obviously doesn’t like throwing things out!’ She turned to go to her room. ‘Right, I’ll get on with some of the BP checks now—would you bring the blood test results and post when you’ve got them, Bunty?’
Janet Rathbone was her first patient that day, small, slight and softly spoken, in complete contrast to her husband, thought Terry with amusement. He had obviously managed to persuade her to come in for a bloodpressure check. She had a large bruise on her cheek below her eye, and resembled a little bird, looking at Terry with her head cocked on one side.
‘That bruise looks painful,’ Terry observed, as she prepared to take the woman’s blood pressure.
‘I walked into the glass door of the hotel dining room,’ explained Mrs Rathbone. ‘Very clumsy of me—I was deep in thought.’ She smiled pleasantly at Terry. ‘I hope you’re enjoying life here, Dr Younger. I believe you’ve taken over from Dr Brodie’s uncle?’
‘That’s right. And, yes, I love it here on Scuola. Now, if I could just ask you a few questions about your general health to update our records?’
‘If you wish—but I’m very lucky,’ replied Janet. ‘Some people, like my poor husband, seem to have to visit the doctor a lot. I’ve been blessed with a very strong constitution.’
Was there a twinkle in her eyes as she said this? wondered Terry. She knew her husband better than anyone and was well aware of his worries over his health. Janet herself did indeed look healthy—no tremors, a good colour, strong nails and, listening to her heart through her stethoscope, a good, regular beat.
‘That’s great. I suppose you keep up with dental checks, eye examinations, and so?’
The slightest hesitation made Terry look up at the woman questioningly.
‘I will make sure I do,’ Mrs Rathbone assured her quickly. ‘I have been meaning to have my eyes checked.’
A glimmer of an idea occurred to Terry and she opened a drawer and pulled out an eye chart. She hooked it up on the wall behind the desk.
‘Can you read me those lines as far down as you can go?’ she asked.
There was a silence, and then very slowly the woman began to read the first line, petering out after a few letters. ‘I…I’m sorry. It does seem a little blurred.’
‘Do you wear glasses for distance, Mrs Rathbone?’
‘No, no, my sight’s always been fine.’
‘What about reading glasses?’
‘Oh, I’ve never needed them…’
Terry reached into a drawer and pulled out the Scuola Recorder that Bunty had given her a few days ago, showing Mrs Rathbone the large photo on the front page.
‘By the way, have you seen this?’ she asked. ‘See anyone you know?’
The woman peered at it, screwing her eyes up, then said at last. ‘It’s not a very clear photograph…Is it Dr Atholl? It’s a bit like him…’
Terry leant back in her chair and smiled across at Mrs Rathbone, pretty sure that she knew what was causing Mrs Rathbone’s clumsiness.
‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but I have to say I think you really do need glasses. Your sight has probably deteriorated since you last had an eye test—quite normal for everyone to get changes in their sight as they get older.’
‘To be honest, I’ve never actually had an eye test, although I did begin to wonder why things didn’t seem to
be as clear as they were. In fact,’ Janet admitted, ‘I really don’t do any reading now—no time, I suppose. Frankly, I don’t really hold with all this worrying about health and testing all the time.’
‘Well, while you’re here, let me just have a quick look at your eyes,’ said Terry, taking her ophthalmoscope out of a drawer. ‘I’m by no means an expert on eyes, of course, but I can get a general idea of their health.’
Through the instrument Terry could see the entire area of the retina, the head of the optic nerve and the retinal arteries, all being illuminated by a perforated angled mirror.
‘It all seems to be fine,’ she said reassuringly, putting the instrument down. ‘But please do make an appointment to see an optician pretty soon. Don’t think that somehow you’re “giving in” by having glasses. To be honest, on the basis of reading that chart, you shouldn’t drive without them.’
Janet looked with slight embarrassment at Terry. ‘Oh dear—how very remiss of me…I should have realised that—both my parents had very poor sight.’ Then with a burst of candour she said, ‘The thing is, Doctor, Cyril is a great one for his health and the more he goes on about what he might have wrong with him, the more I seem to want to prove that I’m in the peak of condition!’
Terry laughed. ‘And I’m sure you are! You’re very slim—no weight worries. I’ll take your BP now, but I bet it’s normal.’
‘I promise to make an eye appointment. I have put things like that off because this is our busiest time of year at the hotel, of course, but I realise how important it is to have my eyes checked,’ said Janet when Terry had finished.
She picked up her handbag and got up from the chair. ‘One thing, though, Doctor. Please don’t say anything to Cyril—he’ll only say he told me so and never let me forget it! I shall pretend I’m going to the optician off my own bat!’
‘Whatever goes on between us is strictly confidential,’ assured Terry. ‘But please come to see us if you don’t feel well, even if you do feel you’ve got to prove something to your husband!’
So that was that, thought Terry wryly as the woman went out. In fact, it was a very good thing that Cyril had persuaded his wife to come in for a check-up before she had a major accident—there were definitely times when it paid to be fussy!
It was a busy morning and Terry made one or two house calls during her lunch-hour before dashing back to a mother and baby clinic at two o’clock. By three-thirty she was back in her room, stretching her stiff back and yawning as Bunty came in with a pile of papers in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.
‘Here’s the blood tests,’ she said cheerily. ‘And lots of mail to keep you occupied. And a cup of tea to wake you up—I saw that yawn!’
Terry laughed. ‘I could just flake out now,’ she admitted. ‘Th
at tea’s really welcome. I’ll make a start on the paperwork now.’
Then Terry’s intercom buzzed and Bunty put the papers down on the desk and went out.
‘When you’re free, can I have a word?’ asked Atholl.
‘Yes. I’m just going to get to grips with some paperwork.’
She looked up as Atholl came into the room, a familiar rush of desire and happiness mingling when she saw him. He stood for a second looking at her from the doorway, dark hair standing up in little peaks over his forehead, his blue eyes smiling at her. Then he strode over to her, looking down with a tender smile.
‘Was last night wonderful or what, sweetheart?’
Then, before she could answer, he held her face in his hands and kissed her full and passionately on her lips.
‘For God’s sake, Atholl—we’re at work!’ she protested, half laughing and putting her hands on his shoulders to push him away.
‘I know,’ he said imperturbably. ‘So what? Just a friendly greeting! You left pretty promptly this morning. I thought you might have been tired and had a lie-in after last night…’ He looked mischievously into her eyes.
‘I certainly had a good night’s sleep,’ she said rather primly.
‘I wonder why that should be?’ he teased.
And Terry smiled up at him radiantly. ‘It was wonderful Atholl, but we must cool it in the office.’
‘I’m just being friendly,’ he murmured, pulling her up from her chair, and kissing her neck and cleavage with soft butterfly kisses that sent little electric shocks of pleasure through her body. And, of course, her good resolutions were forgotten, and she responded ardently, allowing him to tease her lips open, arching her body against his, feeling his hands caressing her curves, until she knew that unless he stopped fairly soon she might throw caution to the winds and allow him to make love to her on the floor of her surgery! He drew away with a chuckle and held her at arm’s length for a second, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Hired: GP and Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Surprise Proposal Page 12
